“That belongs to my friend A. T. Stewart,” said Dick. “It’s the biggest store on Broadway.* If I ever retire from boot-blackin’, and go into mercantile pursuits, I may buy him out, or build another store that’ll take the shine off this one.”
* Mr. Stewart’s Tenth Street store was not open at the time Dick spoke.
“Were you ever in the store?” asked Frank.
“No,” said Dick; “but I’m intimate with one of Stewart’s partners. He is a cash boy, and does nothing but take money all day.”
“A very agreeable employment,” said Frank, laughing.
“Yes,” said Dick, “I’d like to be in it.”
The boys crossed to the West side of Broadway, and walked slowly up the street. To Frank it was a very interesting spectacle. Accustomed to the quiet of the country, there was something fascinating in the crowds of people thronging the sidewalks, and the great variety of vehicles constantly passing and repassing in the street. Then again the shop-windows with their multifarious contents interested and amused him, and he was constantly checking Dick to look in at some well-stocked window.
“I don’t see how so many shopkeepers can find people enough to buy of them,” he said. “We haven’t got but two stores in our village, and Broadway seems to be full of them.”
“Yes,” said Dick; “and its pretty much the same in the avenoos, ’specially the Third, Sixth, and Eighth avenoos. The Bowery, too, is a great place for shoppin’. There everybody sells cheaper’n anybody else, and nobody pretends to make no profit on their goods.”
“Where’s Barnum’s Museum?” asked Frank.